


Psilosis

by chronicAngel



Series: Concresce [7]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Haircuts, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: psilosisn. loss of hair





	Psilosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikorins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikorins/gifts).



> While psilosis is actually used to describe the loss of hair due to medical conditions, this one's not meant to be taken at its literal interpretation.

Usually when Ezreal gets into an argument with someone, it is with her. When she sees him pouting to himself, she is used to rolling her eyes in annoyance because she knows that he is blowing something she has said out of proportion. When he paces and fumes and vents to the air about a fight they've had, she knows how to deal with it because she's had to a thousand times.

She gets to Piltover when he is days into a fight with Vi and she doesn't know how to deal with it because this has never happened before (at least not while she was around to bear witness).

"I just can't believe she would..." He will start every once in a while as though he is going to tell her what happened, and every time he trails off and groans in frustration. (She would like to groan about it, too. The lack of communication is tiresome. She does not know how to help him if he can't talk to her about it.) She tries, once, two days into her visit, to ask Vi about it, and the pink-haired woman just glares at her and tells her that if Ezreal's not telling her about it then she's not going to, either. She tries to be optimistic about this and tells herself that this is out of respect for Ezreal.

On the third day that she is in Piltover, Ezreal seems to realize that he has spent half of the week she has planned to stay having entire arguments in his head without actually confronting Vi about it. After that, he limits his complaints, and she appreciates it even as she really does _want_ to help him. He goes back (mostly) to his usual self, dragging her around to little places about the city-state that he finds interesting and telling her all about how he found them. They have lunch beneath a tree whose trunk is so curved it actually provides shade for them even during high noon. He takes her to the Institute's observatory and shows her distant stars. They go to Zaun and see Ekko, one evening.

His house is small and looks like it should have been condemned years ago, but she can't judge it too harshly because she wasn't certain Ekko actually lived in a house until she saw it and is thus relieved to find that he has a place to live at all.

His parents, Wyeth and Inna, are friendly people even as they look like they haven't had a proper night's sleep in years. From what she's heard, they have had to work so hard for even their little house in the slums of Zaun that they might not have. Ekko almost seems to dread introducing the four of them despite this, like he thinks Ezreal and Lux are going to crumble a delicately crafted lie he has told them simply by existing near them. She has been there. She understands that fear. They start to call him by what sounds like it could be his real name before he coughs and reminds them that most people outside of Zaun know him as Ekko. (She thinks this is strange. She has known from day one that he was using aliases, didn't even trust that Ekko was his true name when he eventually gave it to her, but the way his cheeks redden like he is ashamed fascinates her.)

The couple offers to host them for dinner even as all five of them know that they can't really afford to. There is a screaming part of her, raised among nobility, that insists it would be impolite to refuse. Before she even has time to tamp it down and politely turn them down, Ezreal has smiled apologetically and told them that they should really head back to Piltover, anyway. Ekko looks grateful for this and gently adds that, _of course, you don't want to roam the streets in Zaun too late_.

"They seem nice," she starts once they finally break the surface of Piltover and the air is not so thick with chemical stench anymore. "I am glad Ekko has such caring parents," she adds after a minute, and Ezreal simply shrugs a shoulder and keeps walking in the direction of his home. His jaw is visibly clenched.

She wonders if he is thinking about his own parents. He talks about them often and at the same time says almost nothing at all. She knows that his mother loved books and that his father kept a garden, knows that one of his earliest and fondest memories is of having a fever at four years old as his parents stayed home to take care of him for almost three full weeks, and yet she does not know either of their names.

A beat passes and she wonders if he is instead thinking about his new, chosen family. Caitlyn is a lot like a tired mother, and Vi like an older sister in a similar vein. His relationship with her is nothing at all like Lux's relationship with Garen, but she sees the way Ezreal and Vi act around each other and she thinks it is the way a brother and sister should be even as they are fighting.

She doesn't say anything until they reach his house, and she appreciates the space in it even as it doesn't compare at all to the manor she grew up in because Ekko's home made her feel claustrophobic. He practically collapses onto his couch with a loud huff and she sits with him a moment later, half-laying to match his posture so she can lean her back against his chest. She holds her hand up, palm flat and facing up, and lets the warm light that constantly fills her spill forth just a little bit, playing with figures in the open space on her hand. "Why are you fighting with Vi?"

He cracks his eyes open to watch the way the little figures dance across her palm and thinks for a moment, one of his arms coming around to drape across her abdomen. "Didn't you and Garen ever just... fight?" He asks after a minute.

"No," she answers immediately, furrowing her brows. She and Garen didn't fight very much at all when they were children so much as have tantrums that happened to coincide. She says as much.

He sighs dramatically and leans his head forward until his forehead presses her hair against the back of her neck. "I don't know how to explain it to you," he says after a minute.

She does not want to feel like she is pushing him, so she simply falls silent, staring at the shifting lights in her hand. They look like they are dancing, and the moment she notices this she takes joy in making them go through the various steps she was forced to learn in classes with other noble girls growing up. Mostly slower things, waltzes and foxtrots, twirls that she has never thought looked _that_ graceful.

"My mother was a wonderful dancer," she says after a moment. She doesn't know why she says it, but Ezreal lifts his head so she continues. "I'm sure she still is, but I haven't been to a gala or party with her since I was thirteen. She made me take lessons until then, too. I remember most of the steps, I think." There is a part of her that wants to show off, but there is a larger part of her that is content to lay there against him.

"I'm sure you were awful at it," he teases, and she lets him get away with it because she knows he is upset and trying to hide it. A moment later his fingers come up to play with the ends of her hair and that only confirms it. He only plays with her hair like this when he is particularly upset and trying to work through something. He claims that he needs something to do with his hands, and her hair is soft. She wonders if it isn't in part because it is another small way he can show affection.

She thinks, suddenly, of when she tried to cut her own hair. ( _Tried_ being the key word.) She lets out a startled laugh. She can feel the look he gives her.

"When I was seven or eight years old," she starts, leaning her head back against his shoulder. "Shortly before Garen left for basic training, I went through a phase where I wanted short hair. My hair had been long all my life, and I suppose I got bored of it. Perhaps it was simply an outlet... A way to _disobey_ , for once... I can't be sure what I was thinking." She tries not to sound too much like she is dismissing it even as she knows she is. The foolish actions of a child, that was all. "I sneaked away from my nannies, took a pair of my mother's fabric shears, and cut all of my hair down to the nape of my neck. It looked awful, of course. If there is a person who can cut their own hair and come out of it without looking atrocious, that person certainly isn't me," she laughs.

She trails off as she remembers the way her mother found her like that, so satisfied with what she'd done, surrounded by locks of blonde hair that had fallen to the floor, and had screamed at her for hours. She had immediately regretted it, at the time. Now, she wishes she had had the bravery to point out that it wasn't exactly a _permanent_ change. _Silly Midre_ , she should have said. _Hair grows back_ , she should have said. She remembers the way that Garen had refused to look at her until it had grown out to her shoulders again, and by then he was already halfway out the door for his military service and the damage of his scorn had already been done. The light that she has still been absentmindedly twisting between her fingers fades as she is further buried in memories.

Ezreal speaks up after nearly a full minute, dragging her out of her thoughts. "...Do you want to cut your hair?" The question confuses her. She does not understand what part of her story implied that she wants short hair again. ( _Perhaps it was the way you said it so longingly_ , she thinks.)

Beyond that, the length of her hair has never been her choice before. The idea that it is now is strange to her, and she does not know how to confront the question. _Does_ she want to cut her hair? She has grown to appreciate having long hair in the years since then, but she is not sure if it is actually because she enjoys having it or if it is simply because she has accepted that she _has_ to have it. "...Perhaps," she says, slowly, as though testing the words out. "A little bit?" Surely it can't hurt to cut off the bottom few inches of her hair just to see how it feels.

He draws away from her and she watches him enter his study. (His parents' study?) It is multiple minutes before he comes out again, a pair of metal scissors in his hand, and she moves to sit on the floor in front of the couch simply because this feels like the safest option for this. (She doesn't know the proper hair cutting etiquette. Most of her haircuts have been done by fellow soldiers to remove the last inches of dead growth between battles, and nothing about those situations has ever felt proper.) He has her scoot forward on her knees and then occupies the space behind her, already grabbing a piece of hair between two fingers. "Does here feel good?"

She can't actually tell where _here_ is, but she trusts Ezreal. Just as she is about to nod, she stops and her brow creases with worry. "Are you sure you're alright with this?" She doesn't know why it feels like she needs his permission.

She thinks he shrugs, still not dropping her hair from where he holds it. "If you want to, yeah. I couldn't care less about your hair. I'd love you just as much if you were bald." She wrinkles her nose at the thought, and is sure she doesn't want her hair _that_ short. She is still not sure she wants her hair short at all. She nods for him to continue anyway, and squeezes her eyes shut until she hears the scissors snip with the first small lock of hair.

Her eyes drag down to where it lays on the floor, curling in on itself slightly. It is so light in contrast to the wood of his floorboards. Carefully, he continues to cut small locks of her hair and she continues to watch them drift to the floor. She finds it strangely thrilling. Even as she knows it is relatively insignificant, a truly _tiny_ change, she has never had what _felt_ _like_ such a large change to her appearance before. More than that, it has never been _her choice_ before. Everything about this is her decision and she finds it more and more exhilarating the more blonde hair drifts to his floor. When he announces that he's finished evening it out, her whole body feels lighter even as she knows it is impossible for such a small amount of hair to have truly made such a difference. Without looking in a mirror, she turns to face him and asks, tentatively, "Would you cut more of it?" He grins and turns her so her back is facing him again, taking a lock of hair between his fingers again and snipping at it with the scissors.

They continue like this until she can feel that her hair falls somewhere between her chin and her shoulders, and she is tempted to ask him to just cut it all off before he finally stops her and asks, "Would you like to see what you look like?"

She blinks and, after a hesitant second, nods, standing and brushing hair off of her legs. They are shaking when she reaches the mirror on the wall in his bathroom, though more out of nerves than regret. Her hair is halfway down her neck and she immediately lifts a hand to run her fingers through it.

"You look good," he compliments. She is somewhat dazed, but thinks she smiles.

"I do, don't I?" She is pretty sure she says aloud. She is sure she thinks it, brushing her fingers through her hair and feeling her grin grow each time it suddenly passes the ends, much sooner than it would have only hours earlier. She eventually pulls herself out of her own head enough to see the way he smiles at her. In contrast to her own bright grin, it is soft and tired. Still, there is nothing but affection there. She turns to face him and kisses him without warning, though he seems to expect it anyway as he immediately kisses her back. It is hardly a second before she pulls away. "I love it. Thank you," she whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm picturing it at about Lunar Empress Lux length after they cut it here. Longer than Elementalist Lux but not quite so long as Spellthief.


End file.
